


Worlds Apart

by yosemite_samurai



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe, Awkward Flirting, Awkwardness, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Falling In Love, Language Barrier, Sharing a Bed, Slow Burn, Smut, Temptation, War
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-15
Updated: 2019-12-22
Packaged: 2021-02-25 21:48:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,305
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21802432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yosemite_samurai/pseuds/yosemite_samurai
Summary: Having been alone for a while after the war broke out, Rey's singular goal is to stay under the radar and keep herself alive. This proves far easier than she'd originally thought once she finds an uninhabited hidden bunker. But she shortly finds herself starving and contemplating the mechanics of a swift death. It's at this time that someone invades her safe house, someone who she quickly learns speaks an entirely different language.Thoughworlds apart, the two eventually find some semblance of normalcy in domestic life together. This leads them into particularly strange territory since, despite the obvious barrier between them, neither seems able to prevent the easy, organic unfolding between them that causes both to seek more than merely friendly companionship within the other.
Relationships: Kylo Ren/Rey, Rey & Ben Solo | Kylo Ren, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 8
Kudos: 27





	1. The Bunker

Rey carefully dumps the contents of her backpack onto the water-damaged, rickety table beside the open kitchen. A stray green apple rolls for the edge, but she snatches it before it can fall off and bruise. Three apples... a baggie of jerky... one bunch of carrots. It's an all-right haul for a botched scavenging trip. The only problem is this is supposed to last her a week, and now that she's been spotted stealing, she can't go back to her regular place.

_It's for the best_ , she tells herself as she stuffs her supplies back in her pack. _I've been here too long as it is._

These days, the most important thing is to stay positive. Otherwise, it's too easy to get sucked into panic and dread at the sound of the constant bombing in the distance, the gunshots at night, the life spent in hiding. That would be the least helpful mode of coping. No, Rey won't let it bring her down. _Some_ food is better than _no_ food. Less than this has stretched her for a good two weeks before. And if it comes to it, dead bugs are littered around the house. It's not her first choice in terms of food, but, well... she doesn't get much of a choice anymore if she wants to survive.

She arranges the food neatly on the old table with a suppressed sigh, breaking off half a carrot to have for dinner. Given that she was sighted today, it's best to lay low for the week in case anyone's out searching. The little cabin she's been holed up in for a few months is totally out of the way of any commotion, hidden by a thick gate of trees. It sits at the edge of a narrow river, too, which is perfect for getting water given that the house's faucets don't work. Not that she expected they would. Every house for miles and miles has been abandoned long ago, years maybe. Now, everyone who lives in a place like this deep in the woods is a squatter; someone homeless, left behind, or with nowhere else to go.

Rey is all three, but it doesn't get her down. Positivity is key.

With a sigh, she drops herself on the one in-tact cushion of the broken couch, crunching on her carrot. She counts the bites and chews slowly, trying to make it last. There's not much to do around here but eat and stare out the window at the trees. The curtains - once a pale white, presumably - are now yellowed and torn, moth-bitten in several places. It doesn't bother Rey. With the right perspective, anything can be decorative.

When she's done with her carrot, she goes back to her bag and fishes around inside for her self-made, foldable staff. Nimble fingers unlatch the three portions so she can whack it through the air, making it fling open click into place along its tiny hinges. Rey slowly twirls it around her, warming up. It's a good six feet long, a few inches taller than her, and a formidable opponent to the backs of peoples' knees. Since there's nothing much else for her to do every night, she's been practicing moves with her staff. A while has passed since she's gotten into an altercation and had to actually _use_ it, but she doesn't want to get rusty, just in case.

She practices until nightfall, using the exercise as a sort of meditation. It keeps her lithe and agile, her muscles fluid. But she can't go for very long since the sun is her only guiding light. Even if she had electricity, she wouldn't use it. It's too risky to light up the place when it's dark out. Revealing her location is the worst thing she can possibly do. There are men who travel in packs at night, snatching unsuspecting folk out in the open and selling them to high bidders. Rey's witnessed it herself a few times. She doesn't know exactly what happens to the stolen people, but she dearly does not want to find out.

After closing up her staff and putting it away in her pack - which she, as always, secures to her body using the buckles around the front - she wanders to the bedroom she's been sleeping in. Having a bed is nothing to scoff at, even if it's old and squeals when she turns over. Rey's perfectly aware that she could be sleeping out in the cold tonight, vulnerable to the snatcher men or animals or the elements - anything, really. The bed has a bit of a stench, but what's that matter when it's a _bed?_

She crawls on - shoes and all - and curls up on her side facing the door, letting herself drift slowly to sleep as the room goes black.

Hardly any time has passed until she's snapping her eyes open again, all at once alert. The quiet, unmistakable sound of several pairs of feet creaking up the stairs is impossible to ignore.

Rey lies perfectly still, aware that any move she makes on the noisy mattress will be heard. Muffled voices grow louder the closer they get. Only bits and pieces of their conversation are audible, but Rey _definitely_ makes out 'the thief' and 'this way' and 'first turn'.

Her eyes gently close and she exhales a slow, silent breath, her heart pounding hard enough to visibly jolt her chest. It must be the men whose food she stole. They had to have tracked her somehow.

Rey sits up carefully so as not to jostle the mattress and _slowly_ eases herself along the bed to the wall with the window, cognizant of every tiny squeak of the springs. From what she can hear of the men, they aren't picking it up.

She stares hard through the doorway in the direction of the front door, hidden by the walls of the bedroom. As she hears the doorknob turning, she pauses, swallowing hard and wetting her lips. It doesn't turn all the way, sticking since she locks it every night.

Thank _God_ she locks it every night.

Rey closes her eyes and says a quiet prayer once she makes it to the edge of the bed without jostling it too noticeably. The men are still speaking in hushed voices outside, now trying to pick the lock while Rey tries not to piss herself. She delicately lifts herself off the bed, wincing at the slightly louder creak. Her ears are pricked, focused on the voices, though they don't change much. They haven't heard her.

The wood floor isn't as noisy as the bed, so it barely whispers as she takes one large step to the window. Thanks to Rey's level of caution, she already unstuck the window the day she arrived, and usually leaves it open for airflow. Unfortunately, it's late Autumn now and getting colder, so she's had it closed for the last few weeks. She prays and prays and _prays_ that it opens without a hitch.

When it does, she closes her eyes and lets out a soft exhale, breathing, "Thank God."

Someone whisper-snaps at someone else outside and the porch creaks a little louder than normal. All the men noisily shush each other, which gives Rey the opportunity to jerk the window up. She almost can't believe things are going this well.

The window is maybe six feet from the ground outside, so it's easy for Rey to stick her legs out and turn to face the house, grasping the ledge as she carefully lowers herself to the ground. When her whole body is extended, she pushes one foot off the siding just enough that when she drops, her whole front doesn't grind against the siding. The men are still working on the lock when Rey's feet gently hit the yellowed grass.

_I'm safe_.

The thought echos in her head as she flips up the hood of her black sweater and takes off through the trees, right at the edge of the river. She'd run across it if she wasn't scared of alerting the men with her splashing. Instead, she just goes straight along it, praying she doesn't run into a pack of wolves. Their eerie howls come really close to home some nights, but Rey can't possibly figure out how to avoid them. She thinks she'd rather try her luck with a pack of wolves than a pack of humans. Then she thinks she's being stupid and keeps her eyes out for large, dog-like silhouettes.

She's been running for a full minute, which makes her calm down enough to slow her pace. But then the distant voices abruptly pick up behind her. Instinctively, she hides behind the nearest tree instead of running, but then when she notices several flashlight beams light up around her house, her heart rate spikes and she's off running again. The lights are _really_ strong, blasting a strong glow against the trees in her vicinity the same way lightning would.

Crossing the river doesn't sound so bad anymore.

Rey darts into it, making a few splashing sounds, but it's far enough away from the house that the men won't hear it. Wet shoes are terribly uncomfortable to run in, but all Rey's trying to do at this point is get distance. Somehow, just being on the same side of the river as they are feels too close. As she starts to slow down to give her poor heart a break, _very_ nearby wolf calls break through the silence one creepy howl after another.

A sob of frustration escapes her and she makes a break for the nearest cover - a thick collection of shrubs a few meters away.

It doesn't escape her that wolves will be able to sniff her out in shrubbery, but she doesn't know what else to do. She hasn't learned to climb trees, she can't go back to the house, her breaths have turned to gasps and she can only run for so long.

Shrubs _have_ to be better than open space.

She drops to her knees in front of the bushes, keeping her harsh breaths as quiet as she can - which is not quiet at all - and digs her way inside. Staying hunched over, she kicks out hard at a shrub to break through its branches and make some space. Only, suddenly the shrub is made of steel bars, and Rey has kicked it with all her might.

"Ow-! Fucking-"

Her leg jerks back, foot all at once throbbing, and Rey leans in the direction to frantically search with her hand. The sensation of frigid metal under her fingers is almost jarring. _What is this? A safe?_ She feels around, whimpering a gentle, 'Ow' at the throbbing in her foot, and grasps onto what feels like a metal wheel. Rey's sweaty brow furrows and she leans closer, feeling all over along the bars and the ground until it hits her - this feels like a door.

The wolves' constant howling in the vicinity propels her to try to wrench it open. It's impossible to do with only one hand, making her think it's locked, but when she tries to turn the wheel instead of lifting, it doesn't budge; it's welded to the base. Egged on by her fear, she quickly flips around to her knees, slightly impeded by the shrubbery, and uses both hands and all her strength to heave open the door, carefully lowering it back as far as it can go. It's secured on some kind of seriously heavy-duty hinges, so it doesn't swing all the way open to the ground.

There's a shrub secured to the top of the door for discretion.

Rey doesn't have much time to admire this before another round of wolf calls - much nearer now - makes her look down the hole and see inside. The very top of a metal ladder is visible with a safety cage around it so as not to fall. It's pitch black inside.

Without considering the possibility that someone might be living inside - or rather, considering it and thinking she'd take her chances with people in hiding rather than with wolves or snatchers - Rey scoots closer and gets her legs down the hole, feet braced on a stair. The task is not exactly easy when she's pretty sure she broke something in her right foot, but she manages to use the safety cage to help her keep most of the pressure off it. She climbs down enough that her head is no longer above ground, and she braces her back hard against the cage so as to use both hands to lower the door without letting it bang.

There's no light in the bunker, but no sound either. Her anxiety rises the closer she gets to the bottom, her mind conjuring images of worst-case scenarios of whatever terrifying, freaky person is going to grab her ankle as soon as it's in reach.

When she gets to the bottom, she crouches on her left foot and her right knee and reaches around to the side of her pack where her flashlight is secured. One quick click of a button has the space lit up. She jerks the beam around the room, lighting up every corner while her heart beats fast enough to give her another reason to be alarmed.

But no one's there.

Rey slowly stands, moving the flashlight around and washing this... _bunker..._ in darkness. She notices a light in the ceiling a few feet in front of her, a cord dangling from it. Rey limps to it with a wince and pulls, almost shocked when it works. It's a yellow light, easy on the eyes, but bright enough that she can see everything. The space is small... maybe even a little useless. She turns off her flashlight and secures it back in her pack as she walks around, taking everything in.

The space is maybe two hundred square feet, if that, and shaped like an L. Surprisingly, there's not much of a smell, but there's a layer of dust coating everything, indicating the owner isn't currently inhabiting it. Point one for Rey. It's all cement, walls and floor and ceiling, and feels the same temperature or slightly colder than outside.

Directly in front of her at the other end of the tiny bunker is a kitchen equipped with a fridge, a stove, a sink, and a lot of counter space - all of which is rather shocking to her.

She had no idea a _stove_ could be used in a bunker, nevermind how it - or the rest of it - was brought down. She supposes the door to the bunker is quite large, but it can't be _that_ big.

Just in front of the kitchen is a plush, dark blue couch with a long, pale wooden coffee table in front of it. To Rey's left across from the couch is a small, circular table set against a wall with two chairs, and beyond it is an empty space with nothing but a thick, metal pipe in the corner running from ground to ceiling with a few smaller pipes jutting out at angles and disappearing into the wall.

There's no bed, no bathroom. Theoretically, the couch functions as a bed, but... well... it's not exactly very long.

Rey unlatches her backpack and sets it down beside the coffee table so she can get to snooping.

The first order of business is the fridge. Of course, it's powered off and empty, and since she wasn't expecting much from it, it doesn't dampen her spirits. But perusing the cupboards offers nothing but disappointment as her spirits drop further and further as she reveals the contents. Every single one of them is empty. There's nothing anywhere, not even dish soap beneath the sink. Undoubtedly corroded, the faucet doesn't chug out any water when she turns it on, which makes Rey tip her head back with a dejected sigh.

Her brain decides to use that moment to flash an image in her mind of carrots and apples and jerky on a table. Rey closes her eyes and winces. She can't believe she forgot her only food. She wishes she would have just eaten one whole carrot at least.

Wobbly legs tired from running take her over to the couch where she collapses with a soft bounce and stares at the wall across from her. The cushioning beneath her is comfortable, at least - far better than the seating at the other house with springs stabbing her in the ass here and there. Exhausted, disappointed, and miserable, Rey lets herself puff out a few dejected breaths that turn into sparse crying. How did a single evening alter everything so drastically? She needs food and water, she needs to be able to roam free on _both feet_ in order to _get_ food and water.

_At least I'm still close to the river_ , she thinks with a sniffle.

It's a small mercy. Her water canteens are equipped with water purifiers, ones she replaced only a month ago during yet another looting job. They'll be good for a long time. That's one less thing for her to worry about, thankfully.

Rey sighs quietly, shoving off the couch and going for the light to flick it off. She stumbles her way blind back to the couch and _carefully_ toes off her soggy shoes before laying down. Her knees only have to bend slightly to fit, her tortured foot hanging partly off the cushion. It's comfortable, maybe even just as good as a bed. As she's drifting off, she wonders again how on Earth anything that size was brought down into a bunker.

Waking up fully rested in complete darkness is... a _new_ experience, to put it one way. Once the initial panic of rousing in a foreign place subsides, Rey gets up and carefully moves around the coffee table to get to the one light and turn it on. Going from complete blackness to total light is nearly enough to blind her, she's sure. Wincing, she squeezes one eye closed and sets her hands on her waist, coming up with a game plan.

There isn't really a game plan.

Any enthusiasm she has about finding the bunker burns off within a couple days. By some lucky stroke of fate, the first day she'd been there, she unlocked a hidden compartment in the wall by the fridge just by sitting against the wall and leaning into it. She pulled back the door, which was attached by an adjustable bracket, and found supplies within, the most useful being a pistol with boxes of ammo. It also contained a coil of rope, tools, a spool of wire and - surprising to Rey, for whatever reason - a thin, red blanket. The fact that there wasn't a pillow confused her before she conceded that the arms of the couch were comfy enough to be pillows on their own.

It was a nice victory, a necessary one, and with the supplies already in her pack, it was enough to fashion a couple of amateur animal traps. Leaving the bunker to place them had been nerve-wracking - and rather difficult on her still-injured foot - but she did it slowly and carefully and there was no one around.

The traps hadn't caught anything, though, despite being placed neatly in the shrubbery around the door to her new home.

And now, two days later, she's hungry and uncertain as to whether she should go find food elsewhere. Doing so is no easy task - nor was it ever, even when she had the use of both her feet - and as far as she knows, her options are limited to thieving and killing animals. She has the gun now, of course, but her preference is to _not_ draw attention to herself.

So she practices her moves with her staff for a bit until she smacks it worryingly hard into the wall and concedes that her foot was hurting too much to keep standing anyway. If her staff breaks, her one mode of entertainment is just _poof_ \- gone. The only other thing she has to do is sit on the couch and mess around with a pair of handcuffs that she'd stolen at least a year ago and kept around just in case. In her more playful moods, they make her feel like a cop. And now that she has a gun? Yeah. Definitely a cop.

She naps, she meditates, she entertains herself by flinging around the handcuffs while pretending they're nunchucks, and she checks her stubbornly empty traps in the mornings. _And_ she goes a little crazy since she has no idea what time of day it is since she's not going outside very much.

By the third day, her hunger somehow magically disappears and imbues her with newfound energy, but it's not enough to convince her to venture away from the bunker. It feels so safe inside, like nothing can touch her. If she had any food, it'd be the perfect place to hole up.

But she's also getting very dirty, uncomfortably smelly even to herself, and yet, without the cover of her house to wash in the river, she doesn't feel like taking the chance. That night, she dreams of rifling through her pack and discovering she actually _did_ bring her carrots and apples and jerky. Abruptly waking to find it's only a dream is... heartbreaking.

She's still tired, therefore confused as to why she suddenly jerked into alertness and ended such a _blissful_ dream; unless she was so hungry that the sight of food - even if only in her sleep - was enough to rouse her.

But no, that can't be it.

Her stomach growls _loudly_ , and she thinks maybe that _is_ it. What if she starves to death in this bunker? That's one of the worst ways to go, she thinks. Rey blinks in the darkness and tentatively reaches out to the coffee table, finding the handle of the gun. There are options if it really does come to it. She doesn't know if it will, but either way, she won't let herself suffer.

Seconds later, she hears gunshots above, which startles her upright, the blanket dropping to her hips. Shouting follows, getting closer and closer... and then farther and farther. More gunshots. It's all quite muffled from where she is, and despite there being no windows, she's still too paranoid to turn the light on in case she's somehow found out.

So she sits... and listens... and stares into the pitch black.

The gunshots grow more and more distant before stopping altogether, as far as she can hear, strained as she is to do so.

Minutes later, she's just starting to relax again when the bunker door is wrenched open.


	2. Enemy

The shock of it is enough to force Rey to freeze, staring wide-eyed as the newcomer rushes down the ladder. As the man - because that body is most certainly male - closes the door, Rey is propelled into action and snatches her gun from the table.

"Who are you?" she demands with the pistol aimed in his general direction.

One loud clang rings out followed by a much more alarming string of them. Rey trips over the coffee table on her way to the light, hurrying to flick it on. The man is on the ground, but scrambling to his feet after having apparently fallen down the ladder.

Rey holds the gun shakily with both hands, swallowing and keeping her eyes locked firmly on the intruder. There were gunshots above, so either he was shooting or being shot _at_ , and neither of those screams 'safety'. He stumbles a little as he gets to his feet, his gaze on her all the while - or rather, on her _gun_.

He swallows and takes a step toward her, and Rey _freaks_ out.

"I will shoot you!" she screams, gun trembling. "I swear I'll shoot!"

His eyes bug and he holds one finger to his lips, shushing her while pointing with the other hand to the ground above. Rey's eyes flick up for the briefest second before landing back on his.

"I was here first," she says breathlessly, trying and failing to keep the waver out of her voice. "I'm not leaving."

The man just stares at her, saying nothing. His silence makes her panic since she doesn't know what's going on, and she harshly kicks the coffee table at him with her uninjured foot.

"GET OUT OF HERE!"

He tears his eyes away from her just long enough to safely dodge the table before looking at her again like she's insane.

His response is to spit out a bunch of angry sounds, which Rey first assumes is his attempt at distracting and confusing her. Then she realizes he's speaking a different language.

She narrows her eyes, swallowing the dryness in her mouth.

"Who are you?"

He lets out a sharp, heavy breath and gives her a hard stare. Using one hand, he points to the ceiling, then holds up five fingers and forms the shape of a gun. It's easy enough to understand. She'd heard the gunshots.

"And what does that have to do with me?" she snaps on impulse, reigning herself in a second later.

If he can't understand her, speaking to him is no use.

But she can at least understand that he's on the run, and if he climbs out of the bunker at the wrong time and gets caught, then not only is her bunker revealed, but so is she.

They stare at each other for a few tense seconds before Rey gestures with the gun to the one pipe in the corner of the room. He watches her. She does it again.

" _Go,_ " she emphasizes, nudging her chin.

The man clenches his jaw hard, seeming to understand. He slowly walks to the corner without taking his eyes off her, as wary of her as she is of him. Rey follows at a comfortable distance, still aiming the gun at him. When he gets to the wall, he leans against it, glaring at her. It crosses her mind that he might have weapons in the bag he has slung over his body, strap crossing his chest at an angle, so Rey gestures for him to take it off. He frowns sharply and shakes his head once.

Though it's fair he doesn't want to part with his belongings - neither would she, in his position - it still rubs her the wrong way. She'll give them to him later once she's sure he won't kill her with something in them. They do nothing but silently wrangle, the man in blatant refusal to heed her demands. When Rey takes a step closer and aims the gun right at his head, finger on the trigger, he closes his eyes for a long moment before yanking his pack over his head and tossing it toward her.

Rey swallows and slides her finger back to the side of the gun, using it to gesture to the ground, telling him to sit. This time, he does so without resistance. His glare is hard and unrelenting, but he at least seems to realize he doesn't have a say when she has a gun. It's a relief, having the upper hand here. Without the pistol, she was vulnerable to anyone and everyone. Now that she has a substantial mode of defense, she can protect herself in a way that doesn't mean having to flee her established home.

She stretches her leg over to his bag, catching the strap with her foot and dragging it toward her. The man watches her the whole time, nostrils flaring. She doesn't think she's ever seen someone look so thoroughly pissed off. It's alarming, _despite_ her having the upper hand. Some quiet, soft corner of her mind reminds her this is the first encounter she's had with a person one on one in... years, at least. Processing it remains difficult. What sorts of things are customary to do in social situations? She can't remember. Pointing a gun at her guest is surely poor hospitality.

Not to mention they apparently can't speak the same language. So she can fairly say this is one of the more unusual meetings with another human she's had in her life.

Eyes locked on her captive, Rey takes the bag behind the wall to the door by the fridge. It's out of his view, so she knows he doesn't know what's happening when she carefully opens the hidden compartment and stuffs his bag inside before quietly closing it. He stares daggers, looking very eager indeed to be the one holding the gun.

Part of Rey feels bad, just in case he's usually a kind stranger and _not_ one of the evil men who would do her harm if given the chance. The larger part of her, the part in control, reminds her that people have been betraying her trust since she was first abandoned by her parents at five. Being alone isn't necessarily a preference of hers, but it beats being dead. Trust is stupid these days, the most senseless thing a person like her can do. People who have no one but themselves can _trust_ no one but themselves. She's learned this the hard way.

Besides, if this man is one of the rare nice ones, he'd understand.

As it is, he doesn't appear to be very understanding.

Rey goes to the couch, lowering herself to a sit and balancing her elbows on her knees, gun still on the stranger. He's a big man, broad and towering, but on the ground, he doesn't seem all that threatening. His expression is rather intimidating, as is his entire face - there's a gruesome scar crossing his features and disappearing beneath his sweater - but Rey's sure the fact that she has his supplies and a _gun_ makes her at least a little bit intimidating, too.

They stare for a while, neither letting up. Rey's too on edge to get tired, but sometime within the next hour, the man seems to give up and go to sleep, hunched against the cement wall. He's either stupid - falling asleep in front of her - or exceedingly tired... or _pretending_ and trying to trick her.

So she keeps staring and aiming, doubting it when his face slackens a short time later and his breaths grow even. It's not until she catches herself making long, tired blinks that she starts to panic, which wakes her right up again. Only an idiot would fall asleep right now - which the man must certainly be - and Rey _cannot_ be so careless as to do the same. Assuming she can stay up long enough for the shooters above to clear the vicinity so she can kick the man out - if that's what she's even going to do; she hasn't decided - is also stupid.

Rey thinks of the ropes in the hidden cupboard and considers trying to tie him up to the pipe without waking him. That just seems ridiculous, though. He'd certainly wake, and Rey doesn't know how secure the rope would be anyway.

And then like a lightbulb flicks on over her head, she remembers the handcuffs.

It takes at least ten minutes to finally click one cuff around the man's wrist and the other around one of the smaller pipes leading into the cement wall. Blessedly, he doesn't stir, but she's quite good these days at being patient and careful with her movements, so it's more of a relief than a surprise. Rey has experienced many frightening things in her life, but being that close to the tall, built-like-a-tree stranger while she tries to lock him to the bunker is _seriously_ close to the top of the list. All she could think about was him waking up and grabbing the gun from her, turning out to be a snatcher or a creep of the general variety.

When he doesn't wake, hardly even changes his breathing, Rey counts her blessings and heads back to the couch. But first, she looks at his face up close - just a little. The scar really is gnarly, making him seem menacing just by its existence. He has somewhat crooked features, a plush-looking mouth, skin smattered with beauty marks. It's difficult for Rey to tear her eyes away. She hasn't seen a person up close for such a long time, so doing so is... odd. Intriguing. A soft, muted excitement wriggles up from underneath the fear as she studies the man - an actual _person_ , right there in the _flesh_ \- and watches his chest rise and fall with even breaths.

Absently, she thinks it would have been nice if they were able to understand each other. She can't quite remember what it's like to have a conversation.

Once her curiosity abates, she quietly moves back and heads for the couch, leaving the light on as she lies down and turns on the safety of the gun, holding it to her chest. She remains staring at him as she slowly falls asleep.

* * *

Ben rouses to a flaccid, numb hand with the sensation trickling down his arm. It's enough to jolt him into complete wakefulness, fear already fluttering his heartbeat. He looks over to see he's been cuffed sometime during his sleep. The crazy person has him locked to the pipe.

At the thought of her, Ben whips his head back to find her asleep on the couch at the other end of the room, cradling the gun like it's a stuffed toy.

He squeezes his eyes shut hard and tilts his head back, suppressing a noisy sigh. This isn't _quite_ how he saw his morning going. Escaping without her knowledge would have been ideal.

Careful not to endanger himself by waking her, he gently maneuvers himself into a stand so his hand is below his heart. It almost hurts when the blood starts to pour back in, but it's a relief nonetheless. He'd prefer to walk away from this with all his extremities intact.

Though chilly thanks to sleeping on the cement, he's more refreshed than he was upon arrival, so he assumes he at least had somewhat of a decent rest. Whoever was chasing him has likely given up by now, but Ben's not quite sure what to do from here. On his way to the bunker, he'd assumed he would live in it for the duration of the war, had been fantasizing about luxuriating in solitude instead of being forced to... _mingle_... or whatever it is that social people do.

It was the perfect place to settle down, he'd thought. His job can be done from inside and the entrance is carefully hidden from prying eyes.

Maybe not hidden well enough, though, considering some dirty, crazed woman has found her way in. Ben can't quite believe it. She even found the hidden compartment in the wall somehow.

But despite the situation, he feels a little sorry for her watching her sleep. Her fingers are bony, her cheeks sunken, and she clearly hasn't washed in a while. It's none of his business, of course, and many people fare worse than her. Still, he can't shut off his compassion. She looks... well, she looks like she's close to dying. That could be her plan, to die in the bunker where it's relatively safe.

He's starting to wonder how long she's been living there when she gently moves.

* * *

Due to the icy chill of the bunker, Rey wakes shivering and far before she's had enough sleep. The kink in her neck twinges the instant she starts to lift her head. She pauses and slows her movements, sitting and stretching her neck as carefully as she can before she looks across the room.

The man is already awake, standing with his ankles crossed and his free hand in his pocket. He's staring at her, looking entirely unimpressed.

Rey flicks her eyes to his restrained wrist and back to his face. The hard edge to his expression doesn't shift, nor does the focus of his gaze. His silent _disapproval_ , to put it lightly, speaks volumes.

Somewhat cowed, she drops her eyes.

"I had to," she murmurs as she stands. "I don't know you."

She's aware he won't understand her, but she still wants to defend herself. He has his reasons to be mad at her for locking him up; she has her reasons for doing it.

The man's deep voice makes her flinch in surprise, a one-syllable word that Rey assumes is to get her attention. When their eyes meet, he points above ground. Rey looks at the ceiling, as though she'll be able to see through it to the gunmen, and then nods. She grips the pistol and switches off the safety as she takes a deep breath of courage before marching over to the ladder.

The man's incredulous tone inflecting a string of words she can't make out has her coming to halt, looking over. He shakes his head at her, his face contorted like he's looking at someone moronic.

She huffs. "Well, what would you have me do, then? Turn on my bloody x-ray vision-" She mimes this. "-and see through the ceiling?"

The urge to argue with his apparent arrogance is _strong_ , and the inability to do so is frustrating beyond belief.

He exhales sharply before raising his eyebrows and jangling his locked wrist.

Rey opens her mouth to say something, but shuts it at once, shrinking back a little with a wary stare. It's irresponsible and plain stupid to trust him, but he appears to be... offering to scope things out on his own? They stare at each other for a long moment, neither blinking, before Rey concedes. She has a gun. He has nothing. Brute strength maybe, judging by his build, but still - it's versus a _gun._

"I _will_ shoot," she warns on her approach.

The man looks relieved, clearly not understanding, and Rey rolls her eyes.

She presses the barrel hard to his chest, staring him in the eye to intimidate him - which barely appears to work since beneath his mild apprehension, he looks nothing more than annoyed and impatient - and fishes in her pocket for the key.

"I will," she repeats, finger carefully off the trigger, and then turns the key.

She takes a massive step back immediately and cradles the gun in a more proper stance, keeping her distance. He stares at her as he very slowly relinquishes himself from the cuffs. Rey glances at them, hoping he doesn't steal them. As though he can read her mind, he gently tosses the cuffs away from him to clink onto the ground, key still inside.

Instead of going to the ladder as she assumed, he makes a bee-line to the kitchen area.

"Hey," Rey snaps. "Hey!"

He has his back to her, but he raises his hands where she can see them, not letting her stop him. Maybe he thought 'hey' meant 'hands'.

"God damn it," she mutters, rushing to prevent him from... whatever he's doing.

But then - he does something unexpected.

There's a hidden panel in the space of the wall between the cupboard and the couch - one she's never noticed before - that looks just like the rest of the bunker. He presses it and it unlatches, coming out so he can grab it and turn it 180 degrees. An odd pair of goggles is attached to the back end. While Rey stares on slack-jawed, the man holds the edges of the panel and peers through the goggles, slowly turning a knob with his thumb.

As realization sets in, Rey lowers the gun. She'd been wondering how he found the bunker. He must have been in it before. Maybe... maybe it _is_ his.

A few seconds later, he pulls away and spins the panel again, pressing it back into the wall. It's invisible once more.

He then goes to the secret cupboard by the fridge where Rey'd stuffed his pack, easily opening it and grabbing his things. Part of her thinks she should be more careful, should aim the gun at him and threaten him not to hurt her. She doesn't, nor does she know why she doesn't.

The man secures his pack with a sigh of relief and glances briefly at her as he makes for the ladder. In the back of her mind, she registers the way he's essentially checked her out, but not with interest; more in a wary, slightly disturbed way. He stops, then, staring hard at the ground as though in contemplation. Rey bristles, standing straighter and backing up a step; defensive instead of offensive. It feels weird now, threatening him. She's clearly the one invading. Maybe she should be the one to leave.

The man exhales sharply and spits out a strange word before turning and going to her fridge. Rey rolls her eyes. If there was anything in there, she'd have eaten it already. She lets him peruse, though, let's him search the empty fridge and pantry.

He's only recklessly gone through half before he whips his head over his shoulder to glare at her, one hand still gripped on the cupboard handle.

Some irritated, disbelieving question falls from his lips. Rey just stares. It's not like he has a right to be upset that she has no food for him to steal.

When she doesn't answer, he throws his head back with a frustrated growl and harshly swings the cupboard shut. It smacks closed hard enough that it just bounces open again. As he passes to the ladder, he holds her gaze and shakes his head like he finds her to be the most incompetent human being on the planet.

Rey prickles, anger rising in her blood. She doesn't really have time to do anything about it before he's ascending the ladder without a look back.

"Be careful!" she snaps, because it's quite obvious he's not trying to keep their location discreet in case there are people above.

Of course, he doesn't heed her warning, instead shoving open the creaking metal door and getting out, closing her in behind him with a loud clang.

The sound reverberates in the silence for a few seconds while Rey seethes, glaring at where he'd last been. Curiosity quickly overrides her anger and she goes to the panel he'd revealed.

When she presses, it springs open like it did for him. Rey tucks her straggly hair behind her ears and leans forward. As soon as she realizes what she's seeing, she gasps. It's the outside. The view is distorted - a little cloudy and scratched - but it's nonetheless visible. She grabs the edges and presses closer, turning the knob as the man did. The view turns in a complete circle, giving her a 360 degree view of the whole forest.

Her thumb freezes on the knob when she spots the man stealthily leaving through the woods. He has a talent for blending in, despite his size. Rey watches the whole time until he's out of sight.

It's a lonely feeling, putting the panel back in place. While it wasn't exactly a _pleasant_ encounter, it wasn't a bad one either. That was the only person she's seen in so long. Now she's alone again.

She closes her eyes with a light frown and suppresses the encroaching loneliness. Companionship is a luxury now; not a given, and certainly not a necessity. She'll get by. She'll be fine.

On the bright side, the man had revealed a trick of the bunker. It's safer now. Leaving for food won't be so stressful.

As though on cue, her stomach rumbles, the inward curve of her belly becoming such that it's a little alarming.

_Traps_ , she thinks, resolute.

Time to check the traps.

Pushing the man from her mind, Rey says her prayer and leaves the bunker in search of food.


End file.
